When Good Wizards Go Bad ~ (Small Edit, not Update

Chapter 8 ~ Aligning

Snape took Hermione several more times during the night, plundering every orifice in an attempt to break her and failing miserably, as well as trying out her other talents, leaning back against the headboard, his face contorted as she performed fellatio on him, stretching her mouth wide around his girth, taking him into her throat as the wizard murmured obscenities in his pleasure and gagged her numerous times.

Still, she was quite talented at it.

Between engagements, he talked to the witch. Groaning, Snape gritted his teeth as the last pulses of his latest release died down. He was on top of Hermione and looked down at the witch. She had become more responsive, but still did not cry out under him.

”For the time being, you are my property. This will change once order is restored,” he said to the witch as he deflated inside her. “Possibly you feel this arrangement is less than honorable, and it is, but honor is relative. You’re a whore after all. In any case, I will most likely be the last man you have to give yourself to in this manner in order to survive. Since I am giving you your life back, having me indulge myself with you is a small price to pay. Don’t you agree?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hermione said, looking up at the pale wizard’s cruel features, “As long as this nightmare ends.”

Snape nodded, then slowly withdrew, licking his lips slightly as his cock slipped from her tightness. He shifted over in the bed and lay on his side, looking at the witch.

Hermione looked up at the ceiling, not returning his gaze.

“Can you still brew?” he asked the witch.

Hermione now looked at him, her eyes coming to life even more as she looked a bit excited.

”Yes, though I haven’t for a long, long time,” she said.

”Good. I don’t have the time to give the potion we need the attention required to complete it. I already know you have the skills to create it. You’ve done it before, with rather disastrous results, although not because of the potion itself. An error in application was the cause of your ruin. I took great pleasure in that little fiasco. It was the best laugh I’d had in years,” the wizard said to the witch, who gave only the tiniest frown.

”Polyjuice potion,” she said softly.

”Yes,” Snape replied, a nasty little smile playing about his pale features as he remembered the cat creature she turned into when she accidentally added a cat hair to the brew rather than the hair of Millicent Bulstrode in her second year. It took a month for her to return to full human form.

”I have a lab in the lower mansion, near the dungeons. You will utilize it and brew the potion. We are going to need several applications. I also need to figure out a way to get the prisoners’ wands into Azkaban.”

Hermione actually sat up now.

”Azkaban?” she asked him.

”Yes. The Order members are incarcerated there. I convinced Voldemort that it would be a greater punishment to imprison the vanquished rather than kill them. Their suffering could be extended for years. It appealed to the Dark Lord,” Snape said softly, rolling to his back.

Hermione looked at the dark wizard rather curiously now. Hope was restoring her somewhat and she was at last interested in something other than getting through another day.

”Can I ask you something, Professor?” she said to him.

Snape’s black eyes flicked toward her.

”You can ask, but I won’t promise you an answer,” he replied curtly.

”Why are you doing this? You are a Death Eater, a servant of the Dark Lord,” Hermione said to him.

Snape considered her. Hermione had lived steeped in darkness for the past two years. She knew what it was to live a life that was hated but necessary. The wizard had never been able to talk to anyone about himself. He felt no one could understand what he was and why. But he felt compelled to be honest with the witch, perhaps to purge himself somewhat of the weight he constantly carried.

“I am Dumbledore’s man. I have been since the day Voldemort killed Lily Potter. Lily was . . . my friend since childhood. At one time we were very close. Even though she married that undeserving bastard James Potter, I cared for her. She was the only person, the only witch I ever . . .”

Snape’s voice faltered for a moment.

”Voldemort lied to me. When he went for the boy, he was supposed spare Lily. He promised he wouldn’t harm her. But he did. He killed her. When he returned years later he told me that it couldn’t be helped. That she refused to hand Harry over,” he continued, his voice becoming raw and his eyes reddening.

“But he lied. He could have stunned her. He didn’t have to kill her. He wanted to. He killed her because of how I felt about her, because he wanted all of my loyalty. Voldemort . . . hated love. She was killed because I loved her and I let him know,” the wizard breathed. “Albus assured me that he would return. Ever since that day I have longed for his death, longed to avenge Lily. If I can do that, then I will feel some absolution,” he said, then looked at Hermione, scowling blackly.
.

”Don’t mistake my feelings for Lily Potter as any indication that I have a heart. I don’t. It died with her. This is hatred, Hermione Granger, and hatred is what fuels me,” he said. “Nothing more. This is not a noble or heroic enterprise for me. I would raze the entire wizarding world down to nothing but rubble, casualties be damned, to kill the Dark Lord. It is an entirely selfish act.”

Hermione simply looked at him. It all made sense now.

”But why did you kill Dumbledore?” she asked him.

”He ordered me to. He was dying. My apparent murder of his nemesis would ease Voldemort’s misgivings about my loyalty. It worked. I am one of two wizards allowed in his physical presence. He’s become paranoid and fearful since taking over. He believes everyone wants to assassinate him and take his power away. He stays in his fortress day in and day out with his familiar Nagini, seeing no one, sending his orders to the Ministry in various ways. I am the most powerful Death Eater in his service. And the most trusted,” Snape said.

”And the one wizard in the world that most wants to see him dead,” Hermione said quietly.

”Yes, and you, witch, you are going to help me bring that about,” Snape said to her. “Now, as I said I need to get wands into the hands of the Azkaban prisoners. Every wand is tagged with the owners name, catalogued and kept in a room in my department. I need to find a way to smuggle them in and distribute them.”

Hermione sat there a moment, then, for the first time in many, many months, the witch slowly smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile either, almost mirroring the Potions master occasional snarl-like smile.

”Did you say ‘catalogued?’” Hermione asked him, one eyebrow arching.

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When Snape emerged from Hermione’s room the following morning, he gave the elves instructions to bring the witch garments, food, escort her through the mansion, grant her access to his lab and stores and protect her from harm at all costs. She was not to leave the mansion and there was to be at least one elf with her at all times. If they failed him, what they would get would be much worse than clothes. He could always get more house elves.

The trembling creatures swore to protect the Miss with all their might.

Odessa was present as the Master of the house gave his elves instructions concerning the little trollop he had sequestered in his room. He was standing in the hall by the front door, about to leave for work, the creatures bunched and bobbing in front of the unsmiling wizard.

Odessa was outraged. Snape had never told his house elves to do anything like this for her. In fact, the creatures acted as if they didn’t want to serve her. They were terribly slow responding to her summons and returning with her requests. They always assured her they were giving her “the bestest service” but the truth was, they didn’t like Odessa and weren’t required to serve her, despite the in-outie she gave the Master.

When Snape left Hermione’s room, Odessa had been ‘coincidentally’ walking down the hallway. The truth was she had lurked about for the majority of the night, completely pissed that the wizard didn’t emerge. When he fucked Odessa, when he was finished, he’d send her back to her room or return to his own. He never spent an entire night with her other than the first night he took her.

But the witch didn’t dare question him about Hermione or why he was treating her the way he did. The wizard was completely capable of throwing her out on her juicy ass, and would do it, she realized that now. He hadn’t even tried to hide the fact he intended to fuck the witch he’d brought home.

Judging by the length of time he’d stayed with her, he had enjoyed his visit.

Snape looked up at the witch standing on the landing.

”Odessa, I want no trouble out of you. The witch has service to do for me and I don’t want her disturbed in any manner by your antics. Go shopping or something,” he said to Odessa.

”I don’t have anything I want to buy,” the witch shot back at him.

”Fine. Go buy me something then,” Snape snarled at her, “Some dragon skin boots. Size twelve. In black, of course. Take several hours browsing.”

Odessa cursed under her breath at the wizard who told the elves to make sure the witch left the mansion before Hermione emerged. If the witch wasn’t gone by ten, then contact him. He said this loudly to the creatures, insuring that Odessa heard him.

The elves all looked up at her with narrowed eyes, obviously hoping the witch wouldn’t leave the premises. Odessa let out a little shriek of frustration and stormed down the hall to her rooms to get ready to depart the mansion.

Snape shook his head. Why did he even bother with the witch? Other than providing pussy, she was worthless. Simply eye-candy. Greedy, covetous and conniving eye candy. He knew why however.

It was convenience mostly and not having a totally empty house. At least one other human being on the premises.

Snape wondered as he left the mansion, if he would be allowed to keep it. Probably not if the original owners still lived and were in Azkaban. Well, he’d start hiding his money now, just in case anyone wanted him to give that back. No matter what anyone thought, he had earned it under the Ministry despite who controlled it. He was sure there would be a few people who would want him imprisoned after this was all over, but he wouldn’t be. Amnesty was going to be required to bring others back into the fold, others who knuckled under and accepted the new regime and acted according to its precepts and laws, no matter how horrible.

But that would all be handled, and Snape really wasn’t too concerned about his future after the coup.

No matter what his motivations were, the Potions master would definitely be “The Hero” when this was all over.

And that would work out nicely.

He disapparated, but didn’t head to the Ministry. Instead, he appeared in a small, circular throne room made of stone. Torches in sconces on the wall flickered and several small bonfires burned magically. It was hot here. It was always hot. The Dark Lord was reptilian and couldn’t generate his own heat. Like a snake, he needed to be kept warm or he would become sluggish. Only Snape and the one guard who protected Harry could enter the Dark Lord’s presence this way. Around the fortress was a ward that would kill any unauthorized person who entered the domain, a bloody corpse landing in the throne room. Snape’s and the guard’s robes were especially charmed to allow them to pass this deadly protection. Any attempt to tamper with the robes’ magic had a very unpleasant result.

Death.

”Who comes?” a high-pitched voiced cried from the shadowed throne in the center of the room. The light didn’t reach there. Voldemort preferred darkness. Besides, it gave him an advantage. He would see a potential assassin before he or she saw him.

Snape knelt.

”It is your loyal servant, my Lord, Severus Snape,” the wizard said silkily.

”Ah, Severus. Come closer,” the Dark Lord said, relief in his soft, snake-like voice. “Tell me how my kingdom fares.”

Snape walked closer. Nagini rested looped around Voldemort’s shoulders and hissed viciously at the pale wizard before them.

Snape had always hated that damned snake.

”It does well my Lord. However, I have been moved to do a bit of public relations for you. My informants tell me there is some underground grumbling that the prisoners at Azkaban are being terribly mistreated, enough of a grumbling that it could become a problem. We do not want the Resistance to strengthen.”

Actually, there was no “Resistance” as far as Snape knew. But the despot believed there was in his paranoia and the shrewd Potions master fed that fear, knowing it kept the despot from taking a more active role in his government.

”No. No we don’t Severus. What are you doing to combat this?” the wizard asked him.

”I have ordered the warden to temporarily provide good treatment to the prisoners, to build them up so they appear healthy. Then I intend to take a group of reporters into the prison and allow them to interview and photograph the best of the inmates and show them about. Then they will write about the very humane treatment they receive. The grumblings will cease and then we can return to our usual methods of care at Azkaban,” the wizard said.

Voldemort gave a thin smile.

”I like the way you think, Severus. I chose wisely when I made you my right-hand man,” he said to the pale wizard, who bowed.

”Thank you my Lord,” Snape purred.

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A/N: The plot quickens and thickens. Thanks for reading.